


His Eyes Say Yes

by OneWingedSeraph



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6411214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWingedSeraph/pseuds/OneWingedSeraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five part commission for ArishoksBride. She requested a sweet romance between her Inquisitor, Evelyn Trevelyan and the fetching apostate, Solas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wonder What

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArishoksBride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArishoksBride/gifts).



> Spoilers of Trespasser in the final (fifth) chapter.

He would be lying if he said he was not intrigued by the open curiosity in Evelyn's dark eyes. It was not the first time she had surprised him, or even impressed him, with her thirst for knowledge, and he worked to hide a smile as the Inquisitor once again gave him her trust, and agreed to meet him in the Fade.

The Dreaming was a welcome sight, and as he went in search for her among her dreams, he worked to form a familiar setting, the Haven where they had first met, and he decided that here would be the perfect place to have their first lesson. It was there when she had first surprised him by surviving, and it was first here that she had proven to be more warm and caring than he had ever thought he would find a mortal to be.

She stood at the gates, looking at the familiar sight with a quiet sense of wonder, a pensive tilt to her lips as she allowed her gaze to travel over the nostalgic sight. “Why here?” she asked softly as he moved to join her.

Solas took the time to explain his decision, expounding upon the need for familiarity, for the dreamer to be comfortable in order to truly learn while in the Fade. He told her how he had wondered if she would even survive upon their first meeting, he, a humble elven apostate, and she, a woman at the mercy of an unknown magic, branded a traitor. And as always, Evelyn actively listened, her gaze occasionally drawn to him as she asked another question, her fingers clasped behind her back as she tilted her head back and watched the snow fall lazily to the earth.

“But we already discussed this,” she said when he had concluded, her dark eyes roving over the distant landscape, darting upward now and then to measure the Breach.

He nodded in answer, his arms folded behind her as she worked to articulate what it was she needed to say.

“I never thanked you.” She turned and lifted her gaze to his. “Most had already decided that I was not worth the effort, but you . . . .” Her lips curved upward. “You risked your life to help me.”

Solas tilted his head and considered her for a long moment, ignoring the auburn strands of hair that had escaped her braid, framing her soft cheeks. He knew now that his reasons behind keeping her safe were a very far cry from why he had originally saved her. But how could he tell her? She was a mortal—a human. His magic had not been meant for her, and she certainly ought not to have survived.

His curiosity was stirred every time she managed to exceed his expectations, and though his growing interest could very well come back to haunt him, he could no more walk away than he could explain why his magic had not killed her.

“You intrigued me,” he said at last. “I could think of no reason why you, a mortal, could survive being sent through the Fade in physical form. None of my tests could give me an answer, and the Breach had scattered any spirits I might have gone to for counsel.” Turning, he led her to the elevated platform where she had first agreed to be the leader of the Inquisition. The sun gilded her hair, illuminating her like the holy standard Cassandra and the others had needed her to become. He looked away from her, unable to hold her gaze. “I had considered fleeing.”

She hummed, a plume of smoke escaping her lips. “But where would you have gone? The Breach would eventually have spread everywhere.”

A chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. “I never said it was a good plan. But I had hoped to put enough distance between the Breach and myself—give myself enough time to perhaps come up with a way to stop it from spreading, or even to perhaps repair it.”

“Yet, you didn’t flee.” Evelyn looked to him, but he still did not meet her gaze.

“No. I decided to make one more attempt, but it failed, as you know. And in the end . . . .”

A memory flashed through his mind, bright and vivid as the magic that connected the mark in her palm to the rift before them. Inexplicably, she had awoken, and she had been able to close the rifts.

“You sealed it with a gesture.” At last, he allowed himself to face her, shaking his head still at the wonder of what she had done. And still, he could not explain why she had been able to do it. He shook his head. “I felt the world change.”

Evelyn blinked, her lips parting in surprise before she tilted her head, her dark gaze holding his the entire time. “ _Felt?_ ”

He blinked, too. Straightening, he took a step back and gathered his wits. “It is a figure of speech.”

“I am quite aware of the metaphor and the meaning behind it.” She leaned forward just a little, that same unbidden curiosity in her expression, along with a sudden longing, a quiet warmth that he had seen in her on numerous occasions. To have it suddenly directed at him, here, in the Fade, had him questioning many things. “But I cannot help but be intrigued at your choice of words; you are always so careful.”

Solas swallowed, watching as she took another step, erasing the distance between them that he had always so carefully measured. There were snowflakes in her hair, and he could almost feel her warmth, even in a dream. “You . . . changed everything,” he admitted at last, the words spoken with hesitation.

Her smile grew and she glanced away. “Another surprise,” she murmured. “I never would have imagined you saying such sweet things.” She laughed softly as he looked away, and then suddenly, her fingertips were on his cheek, turning his face toward her. Softly, she kissed him, and it was nothing more than a mere, passing caress, a bare brush of her lips against his. But he could feel her smiling still against his mouth before she pulled away.

Something warm bloomed within his chest, and without stopping to think of the faults or repercussions, he reached out and caught her wrist in his hand, stopping her from putting more distance between them. He relished in the surprise he saw in her dark eyes and the blush that spread across her cheeks before he bent and kissed her in return. It was his turn now to smile as he felt her arms circle his shoulders, and he held her close as she rose on her tiptoes to meet the slant of his mouth.

Even as he deepened the kiss, his mind was telling him of all that could go wrong. It was not right, he told himself, tightening his hold on her. He should stop this before it went too far.

But he did not stop, nor did he pull away. He basked in her warmth, in her passion, and with each little sound she made, that warmth in his chest blazed brighter, and it was with a ragged sound of his own that he pulled away, his hands still on her waist as he held her from him, his mind and his heart at war with one another.

“I should not have—“ He shook his head, struggling against the desire that rose up inside of him at the sight of her swollen mouth. “Not even here.”

Evelyn held his gaze, her eyes even darker now and filled with the same heat that threatened to overrun him. “What do you mean?” she asked, ever curious.

He could not stop his growing delight at her question, her insatiable need to understand. Reaching out, he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Where do you think we are, Evelyn?” Her name felt far too good on his tongue.

“This . . . .” Understanding dawned and her eyes widened as she looked at the scene around them. “We’re dreaming in the Fade.”

His touch drew her attention back to him, and he smiled as he smoothed his thumb over the curve of her cheek. But there was sadness in his voice as he said: “Wake up.”

 

Solas opened his eyes, listening for a moment at the sound of birdsong just outside his window. He allowed himself to imagine Evelyn waking up, her hair tousled from sleeping, her breathing just the slightest bit unsteady. Perhaps, she would even trace her lips, and wonder . . . .

 _And wonder what_ , he wondered.


	2. Reshaping Secrets

            It was hard to imagine that she was the same woman he had brought back from the brink of death. He could still remember how limp her hand had been in his as he spoke words of magic over her, working to keep her alive for just a moment longer. He could easily recall the feel of her sweat-slicked skin beneath his palms as he worked to draw out her fever, to coax just an ounce more of his power into her body as she struggled for every breath.

            Now, she was smiling, a beacon to all those around her. Her eyes were bright with life and kindness, her nimble hands always outstretched to offer aid or comfort with a touch. Her skin was pale and radiant, cheeks flushed and dimpled with a wide smile as she twirled and dipped with an imaginary partner.

            Solas watched her from within the privacy of his rotunda, catching only glimpses of her now and then as Leliana and Josephine worked with Vivienne to prepare their Inquisitor for the upcoming ball at the Winter Palace. He forced his gaze to the tomes before him, his studies spread across nearly the entirety of the desk. There was still much he had to decipher before they left for Orlais, and a half-written letter continued to draw his gaze, now and again; would she think him foolish for writing a confession? Perhaps she would prefer for him to woo her in a more . . . physical manner.

            He grimaced and hid the letter beneath one of the heavier tomes, and worked to control the frequency of his glances at the beautiful, and very much alive, Evelyn Trevelyan.

 

            The intrigue of the Winter Palace was almost palpable, humming in the air and tracing unseen fingers along the nape of his neck. He had watched from the sidelines as Evelyn talked with the elite of Orlais, complimenting and playing the Game as though she had written the rules. She wore a simple mask of white lace, and she was dressed in layers of dark blue silk, the shimmering material complimenting her curves and flattering her dark red hair and pale skin; Josephine had done well.

            Another servant passed by, holding a tray topped with delicate champagne flutes. Solas reached out and plucked one up easily, holding the slender stem between his gloved fingers. His gaze remained on their Inquisitor as she bowed and led Lady Floraine onto the dance floor. He chuckled to himself as he saw the familiar curve of Evelyn’s smile, her lips painted a sinful crimson for this special occasion, and he knew that Lady Floraine would be unable to hold her secrets.

            He struggled to, after all.

            Throughout the night, he heard the servants whispering their own secrets, most of which revolved around the mysterious Inquisitor, who had managed to dance and smile her way into many, many rumors. He took note of them, filing some of them away until he could better use them, and reshaping the ones he thought would best further their cause, whispering them in the right ear so that they might take root and blossom into even more goodwill for the Inquisition. He did have a duty as her manservant.

            When Celene stood alone and still alive that night, and thanked both Inquisitor and Inquisition for their aid, Solas slipped through the crowd and took his place just behind and beside Evelyn, cupping her elbow in his palm for just a moment—enough to garner her attention, but not enough to draw the attention of the gossips.

            “You did well,” he murmured as the Inquisition members made their way to one end of the ballroom. He stepped aside as Cassandra and Cullen both took the closest spots to the corner, furthest from prying eyes, and grumbled to each other softly about the foolishness of Orlais. Solas watched as Evelyn watched them sympathetically before turning her dark gaze to him, a small smile curving at the edges of her lips.

            “Thank you,” she answered softly. “I was thankful to have all of you here with me, especially you.”

            His tongue was looser than it ought to have been, and he spoke without thinking of the consequences. “I wish I could have done more than wait in the halls and turn the idle rumor.”

            Evelyn’s gaze softened, then, grew brighter, and she reached up to place her hand on his forearm. “Would you care to dance with me, then? The night is not yet over.”

            “I would like that,” he replied, thinking no further than the pleasant weight of her touch. He offered her his arm, his chest tightening as she slid her arm around his, holding him possessively. Without little care for propriety, they strode through the ballroom, paying no mind to the whispers that were not meant to remain hidden behind lace fans and silk gloves.

            “An elf and a manservant, no less.”

            One of the counts with whom Evelyn had given two dances, snorted and muttered to his colleague, “She could no doubt do better.”

            Before Solas could respond in any way, Evelyn moved herself closer to his side, the curve of her hip pressed to his thigh, and the soft press of her breast against his forearm. Her shoulders were straight, her gaze on the door ahead, and her chin tilted defiantly; her expression was calm and uncaring of the gossip, and Solas felt his appreciation for her grow even stronger.

            The cool air, scented with lilacs and crystal grace, was a welcome reprieve against their flushed faces. They stood for a long moment near the balcony, overlooking the lantern-lit city and taking in the beauty of the view, ostentatious as it was.

            “It’s odd,” Evelyn said suddenly, wry amusement in her tone.

            He turned his gaze to her, enjoying the way the golden light reflected off the bridge of her nose and the soft curve of her cheek, gilding her artfully braided hair a golden-auburn. “What is?” he asked when he realized he had been staring.

            She chuckled, smiling as she lifted her gaze to the stars and crescent moon. “When I was a girl, I always dreamed of going to a gala like this. Dressing in finery, being asked to dance by handsome suitors, flirting the night away . . . those dreams only grew more fanciful when I was sent to the Circle.” Her smile shifted, grew winsome, and her next laugh was brittle. “I was just thinking how funny life can be. I finally got my dream, the finery, the dancing, the flirting, but it didn’t end up being at all what I wanted.”

            “How disappointing,” he said softly.

            “Yes.” Evelyn finally turned her face toward him, her eyes dark and burning. “The entire evening I could only think of one thing.”

            Solas nearly stiffened at that. He had seen this look in her eyes before, on the battlefield when she was about to win the fight, a look of determination that threatened to unseat him, make him tell her everything she wished to know. He swallowed, cursing that last drink, and tilted his head toward her, the ever-deferential manservant. “If I can help improve your evening in any way, Inquisitor, you need merely tell me.”

            Her eyes darkened further and her grip on his arm tightened. A moment later, she touched his face gently, warm silk smoothing over his cheek. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him, gently, and pulled away.

            He followed the cool press of her lips, leaning down and daring to kiss her again, his touches light and fleeting, testing. Evelyn sighed, her lips parting beneath his, and he could taste chocolate and wine on her breath as they shared a third kiss.

            She was the first to pull away, her eyes still closed and her cheeks flushed. He watched her with hooded eyes, tempted to draw her close again as she licked her dark lips. But as she opened her eyes, met his gaze, and smiled, he merely returned the smile and rested his brow against hers.

            “I would still like that dance,” she whispered some time later when she had caught her breath. Her smile grew before she caught her lower lip between her teeth and she tilted her head in a coquettish manner. “I know you were watching me practice.”

            Solas laughed, his head tilted back as he lost himself in the moment, in the simple pleasure of being with her. With laughter still in his voice, he pulled back and bowed. “Then, please, by all means, show me what you have learned.”

            Evelyn smiled again as she curtsied and placed her hand in his, their bodies moving together to be pressed close once more. There was something that looked like a promise in her eyes, and as they danced that night, Solas allowed himself the chance to truly wonder what that promise might be.


	3. Beyond Caring

            Time had passed and it was with equal parts loathing and excitement that Solas took the familiar paths that led him to Skyhold. The air was crisp and cool, and overhead, the sun shone down strong enough to keep him warm, regardless of the fact that it was the dead of winter. But despite the beautiful and familiar terrain of the Frostbacks, he could not keep himself from remembering the tragedy that had kept him away for so long in the first place.

            If he allowed himself to recall that day some time ago, his anger still burned bright enough to summon flames to his hands, and though the grief had ebbed, it still stung like a fresh wound. Wisdom had been his friend when he had none, and he had appreciated her for more than her insight and her knowledge. She had deserved more than the ending she had received, reduced to an abomination, her very center of being torn and twisted from the kind and giving spirit she had been for so many decades. That he had been the one to usher her into death—it pained him still.

            He had fled, unable to hold back his rage and grief and desire to kill those mages, even after Evelyn had stopped him, and he had hidden himself away where no one could find him, not even the Inquisition. Time had passed and he spent all that he could in the Fade, seeking out places and memories he had shared with Wisdom, allowing the Dreaming to take away his sorrow. But it returned each time he awoke.

            More time might have passed if it had not been for a certain memory, newer, but no less poignant. He had led Evelyn to one of Wisdom’s favorite places, an old library that was nothing but broken rock now, and he had introduced them. Evelyn had been thrilled; no hint of fear in her as she spoke with Wisdom and almost immediately began to ask question after question. He and the spirit had laughed at that, amused and appreciative of her curiosity.

            She visited Wisdom often after that, and a few of his other friends, learning what she could, gleaning each new piece of information as though it were as vital to her as her next breath. She was radiant in the Fade, and it had been that memory that led him to return to her.

            Evelyn had wept when she saw Wisdom reduced to a demon. He had seen her hands shake when she broke the binding that had held their friend, and though she had done her best to be strong, for his sake as well as her own, he could still hear the sound of her muffled sobs as she remained by the river where Wisdom had died.

            And he had fled, thinking only of himself and his own grief.

            After remembering, he had set off at once, eager to return to her, to apologize for his thoughtlessness and offer what comfort he could. As he came through the main gate of Skyhold, he almost expected to see her coming down the steps to greet him. But he was instead greeted by various troops and an unsurprised Varric, who told him that the Inquisitor was at the War Table with her advisors.

            “Want me to tell her you’re back?” the dwarf asked, his gaze sharp as he waited for Solas’ answer.

            “Actually, yes.” Solas gave Varric a small smile and inclined his head. “If you would not mind, tell her that I will await her in her quarters.”

            A warm smile spread across the dwarf’s face and he nodded. “Good to have you back, Chuckles. She really missed you.”

            Solas could not keep his smile from growing at Varric’s words, and a moment later, he was making his way up the stairs toward Evelyn’s room, ignoring the stares and whispers of the rest of the Inquisition. He walked toward the balcony, noting with some amusement that the doors were already open, despite the chill, and he allowed himself to marvel at the view.

            Only minutes passed before he heard the quick tread of footsteps on the stairs, and he turned in time to see Evelyn step into her quarters, her chest heaving and red marking her cheeks. His heart leapt; she had run to see him.

            “Solas?” she asked, near breathless, and took a tentative step toward him. “You were gone for nearly two months.”

            The information struck him like a blow. Had he truly been gone so long?

            She was almost close enough to touch, but he held himself back. He had to know if she were upset with him for being gone so long and without a single word. “I apologize. I did not realize that I had been gone for so—”

            Evelyn closed the distance between them and threw her arms around his waist, clasping him tightly as she let out a shuddering breath against his neck. “I missed you,” she whispered, her voice desperate. “I was so worried.”

            “I should have sent word to you.” It was not quite an apology, but it was the best he could do when all he could think about was how perfectly she felt in his arms and how her heart was beating rapidly against his chest.

            She stirred, fingers tightening in his tunic as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “How are you?” she asked with pure intent and worry.

            “It hurts,” he answered honestly. She deserved that. “It always does.”

            “I’m glad that you’re back.”

            He allowed himself to pull her close again, to hold her just as tightly, breathing in the warmth and sweet scent of her. “You were a good friend, to us both. You did everything you could for her. I apologize for my absence; I can hardly abandon you now.”

            Evelyn pressed her head to his chest, her ear over his heart, and her voice was soft as she answered, “The next time you have to grieve, you don’t have to do it alone. I missed you,” she said again, the words tremulous.

            “And I you.” He dared to press a kiss to her hair before resting his cheek on her crown. “It has been so long since I could trust someone as I have learned that I can trust you. I will do my best to remember it.”

            They remained that way for several minutes, hearts beating together, their bodies warm despite the wintry gusts that plucked at her hair and the curtains behind them. But at last, they stirred.

            Solas slowly pulled away, his fingers smoothing over the curve of her cheek before he looked out over the balcony. “What were you like before the Anchor? Were you, perhaps, different than you are now?”

            “If I were,” she smiled wryly, “do you think I’d have noticed?” Her smile grew as he chuckled. “Why do you ask?”

            He paused, considered the words that he had repeated in his mind countless times on his journey back to Skyhold. Back to her. “You . . . show a wisdom I have not seen since . . . since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are nothing like what I expected.”

            She blinked in surprise before her smile softened and she ducked her head. “For a human?”

            “No.” His brow furrowed as he chose his next words carefully. “Most people are predictable, but you—you have show subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against anything I expected. For _any_ race,” he added as she lifted her gaze to his once more. “If there are truly people like you in this world . . . have I misjudged them, as well?”

            Evelyn opened her mouth to answer, paused, and then chuckled. “Every person is different, Solas. And it isn’t what they are that defines them, but their choices. I am who I am because of what I decided along my own journey.” Her dark gaze was warm as she took a step toward him. “With some additional help along the way.”

            “You are wise to give yourself that due,” he insisted. “I merely offered my words; you decided what to do with them. That was your choice.”

            She held out her hands to him, and he took them, marveling again at the warmth she offered. “What does all of this mean?” she asked gently, ever inquisitive.

            “It means I have not forgotten what we have shared.”

            As he drew her to him, and she stepped into his embrace willingly, he felt the last of his grief and loneliness fade away in the brightness of her smile. “Good,” she answered with a cheeky grin, her skin pink from the cold as she tilted her head back to him. “Neither have I.”

            His breath caught at the love he saw in her eyes, and for a moment, he felt a flutter of fear. “It would be kinder in the long run if I were to go,” he said softly, his gaze darting over her familiar features, tracing them with all the care and desire he held from her. “I have hurt you already.”

            “You came back,” she whispered, placing her hands to his chest, her fingers smoothing over his tunic, nudging the wolf jaw that guarded his heart. Her fear and her questions were hidden in the corners of her smile. “You’re here with me now.”

            Solas caught her questing hands, placed her palms to the side of his neck as he bent and pressed his brow to hers. He warred with himself, and had just gathered the strength to pull away when Evelyn rose up and kissed him, her fingers desperately holding him to her as she pressed her weight against him.

            He was lost, and returned the kiss as desperately as a man who was given his first drink of water in days. His grip on her hips was sure to leave bruises, and the pendant would leave a mark against her soft skin, but both were beyond caring. At least for now.


	4. Inevitable

It had come to this, as he had known it inevitably would. But that did not make it any easier.

He led her through the darkness and toward the dimly lit statues that protected the clearing ahead. Evelyn’s hand fit in his just perfectly, her slender fingers entwined with his, and with each step, their shoulders brushed together and her warmth teased him.

“The Veil is thin here,” he said softly, inclining his head toward her as they stopped. “Can you feel it?”

Evelyn turned to face him completely, her dark eyes bright, and he could read her answer in her expression. The wind moved over the nearby water, sending ripples dancing over the surface, blurring the moonlight, and tugging at strands of her loose hair, filling the air with the scent of her favorite flowers.

Unable to help himself, he let go of her left hand, only to reach up and cup her cheek, smoothing his thumb over her soft skin, and watching as she blushed. “I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me, Eveyln,” he murmured, and let his hand fall to catch one curl as it danced over her shoulder. His chest tightened as she lifted her free hand to touch the skin that he had just caressed.

“We both know that’s not necessary, Solas,” she answered quietly, her voice warm and bringing to mind the nights they had shared together. “You are my . . . .” she paused, turning curiosity-bright eyes toward him, and smiled.

“That is the question, is it not?” He took a breath and held it, then slowly sighed. “Shall we sit, for a moment?”

She allowed him to lead her toward the largest rock beside the water, and though she said nothing at his decision to kneel before her instead of join her, she waited patiently, her thumb tracing slow circles over the back of his hand. When he did not speak, she squeezed his hand, gently encouraging him to say whatever was on his mind—she had always wanted to know what he was thinking. “Solas,” she said, her voice gentle as the wind, and at last, he gathered the courage to speak.

“The best gift that I can offer to you is the truth.” He smiled despite himself, the words falling from his lips easily. “You are unique. In all of Thedas, I never thought I would meet someone who could so easily draw my attention from the Fade.” Solas paused to watch the pleased blush that covered her cheeks, his next breath leaving him in a quick rush. “You have become important to me. More important than I ever could have imagined.”

Smiling, she held his gaze. “I feel the same of you.”

He tried to return her smile, but he could not. “Then, as I have said, I must tell you the truth.” But the words caught in his throat, and for a moment, he considered abandoning this path. It would be easier to slip away into the night, to leave her with only the good memories of their time together, to mourn over the love he lost without seeing the pain in her eyes when he told her. He almost did it, several lies danced on the tip of his tongue . . . but the patience in her eyes, the gentle smile that still curved at her lips—how could he lie when she had opened up to him? When she had been the one to accept all that he had offered, and had shown honest interest in him and his well-being? How could he be any less than what she knew him to be?

“You are so beautiful,” he said at last, railing against the words he knew he must say and the hurt that he knew he must cause. Even as she smiled, embarrassed at the simple compliment, he could only watch as though from a distance, feeling none of the warmth that she so freely offered.

And when she reached for him, he could not deny her. Nor could he deny himself and his own desire.

The kiss was gentle at first, a grateful brush of her lips against his, but he allowed himself to make it more. He slanted his head and deepened the kiss, working to tell her without words how much he cared for her, appreciated her kindness and inquisitive mind, and felt unworthy of the love she had for him. Eveyln responded with some surprise, smiling against his mouth and meeting the press of his tongue with her own, a soft sound leaving her as he traced his fingers over the curve of her hip.

It was with great effort that he pulled away, immediately missing the softness of her mouth and the warmth of her touch, but he steeled himself. And as she gazed up at him, that sweet and loving look in her eyes, he refused to lose his focus, though it cost him dearly to do so. Solas took her hands in his, forcing a modicum of distance between them, and he said the words he had been dreading since the moment he admitted he loved her.

“And I am sorry.” He watched the confusion cross her face, watched the pucker form between her brows as she tried to piece together what he could have possibly been apologizing for. He soldiered on. “I have been a distraction from your duties. It should not have happened, and it will not happen again.”

Her brow smoothed and she chuckled. “Solas, you do not have to apologize for that. You are a welcome distraction.”

Shaking his head, he forcibly pushed her back as he rose to his feet, placing more distance between them and ignoring the hurt he saw in her eyes. “ _Please,_ vhenan.” He winced and cursed himself for allowing the term to leave his tongue, but it was too late to take it back, and it hung in the growing distance between them, an empty thing. “This ought not to have happened; I am at fault for encouraging it, but I cannot allow you to follow after me any longer. You have your duties, and I have mine.”

“Solas,” Evelyn’s voice broke and she stopped, bit her lip and shook her head. “Solas, please. You cannot leave me. Not now.” She stood and took a step toward him, a pleading note in her voice that he had never heard before, and he hated that he was the reason behind the weak waver. “I love you.”

He shook his head as he backed away, refusing to hear, refusing to understand, even as his heart thrilled at the words. “You have a rare and marvelous spirit, Evelyn. In another world . . . .” How could he finish the thought?

She followed him, her hands clenched at her sides as though to keep herself from reaching out. “We only have _this_ world, Solas.”

“I _can’t,_ ” he insisted, and she fell silent as she saw his hands raised as though to ward her away. The hurt in her eyes was replaced with sorrow, and he took another step back, wavering even now. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and turned away, grateful that he could no longer see her face, or the tears that had filled her eyes.

And he walked away, listening as her heart broke, his own heart shattering silently in the darkness.


	5. Acquiescence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trespasser spoilers in this chapter.

             He had heard the rumors ever since he had gathered his broken orb and fled from the battlefield, licking his wounds and rearranging his plans and pieces as best he could. He had listened for news of her and the Inquisition as often as he dared, sending his own agents at times to spy and keep an eye on their movements. On her. He had even wondered, in these last few days, if she would take note of all the ruined splendor around her—would she marvel at all that had been lost? Would she be grieved by the millennia of desolation and half-remembered tales?

            She was fighting to find him, he knew. Just as desperate and courageous as he remembered her to be. She stopped the remainder of the Qunari’s forces and saved the council in Orlais, despite the pain she must be feeling, and the frustration of her beloved Inquisition crumbling around her.

            So he was not surprised when he heard her footsteps on the broken marble, her pace wavering as she sought out the sound of his and the Vidissala’s voices. He regretted showing her what his power could do, the Vidissala’s flesh darkening and hardening to stone in but a moment, but he felt it necessary. She had to know. After all this time, after all the clues, she had to—

            “Solas?”

            The sound of her voice calling out his name . . . he could not have prepared himself for what it did to him. His breath caught as his lungs tightened; his stomach clenched and his feet threatened to turn and take him to her. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment of weakness to just bask in the sound of her voice after all this time.

            After another breath, he turned and permitted himself to look at her.

            But she surprised him, even after all this time, and as he turned, he found her arms already around his neck, gripping him tightly even as she trusted her weight against him. He lifted his gauntleted hands, steadying her, his heart racing as madly as her own as he held the woman he loved in his arms.

            “Solas,” she murmured, her voice so tired, and yet still so warm, and she shifted her weight to look at him. Yet even as she lifted her dark gaze to his, she went stiff, lips parting in a nearly breathless cry of pain. She was rigid in his arms and Solas quickly lowered her to the ground, his expression hardening as she clutched her marked palm.

            He could feel the magic—his magic—roiling just beneath her skin, threatening to tear her apart. With gentle hands, he clasped her wrist and forearm and summoned his power, cutting off the surge of magic with but a thought, releasing Evelyn from the near constant pain.

            Her breathing remained ragged for a moment, but there was weak relief in her eyes as she looked up at him. “How?”

            “That should give us more time,” he said softly, and helped her back to her feet. Once she stood on her own, he pulled away, folding his arms behind his back, forcing himself to put the distance he had worked so hard to keep between them. He told himself that the pain he saw in her eyes was just residual from the mark. It was easier. “I suspect you have questions.” Despite his best efforts, the words came out fond.

            “No,” she answered, studying his face even as he worked to hide his surprise. “I have been looking for you ever since you left. I have done everything I could think of just to find a hint of your whereabouts or your safety and for two years, I have heard nothing. _Nothing._ Not until I arrive here, and I see all these ruins and I search all these crossroads, and I learned what I’ve wondered in my heart for so long.” Evelyn straightened, tilting her chin as she held his gaze, the sweetness and the softness hidden behind pale skin and dark-rimmed eyes. “I know who you are and I know that everything we’ve heard about you is wrong.”

            Solas shook his head, unwilling to hear her words, to be subjected to her kindness, even after all this time and after all that he had done. “Evelyn.”

            “Stop.” She spoke softly, but the demand was there all the same. “All these years, I was the one who listened. Now I want you to listen.”

            He bowed his head, silently assenting.

            “You knew from the beginning—from the moment we met—who you were and whose mark I held in my hand. You took me under your wing, you tutored me, and you taught me things I never thought imaginable. You allowed me in, you shared secrets with me that you told me you never shared with another, and I did the same.” Her voice tapered and she pressed her lips together, lifting her unmarked hand to her breast. “We fell in love and you made me happier than I ever thought I could be.”

            She let silence stretch between them, her warm brown eyes searching his face as she pieced together her thoughts. Her next breath came on a gasp, but she continued anyway. “But you lied to me. I loved you, Solas. With everything that I had, I _loved_ you.”

            He worked to hide his guilt, his brokenness; tucked it all deep inside where he had hidden it for the last few years, knowing that eventually it would consume him, but for now he would be strong. “ _Ir abelas, vhenan_ ,” he murmured.

            “Did you think I wouldn’t understand?” The question was spoken weakly, but she took a step closer, forcing him to meet her gaze once more. “Did you think I would send you away if you told me the truth?” Even quieter, she asked, “Because I am a human?”

            “No.” Catching himself, he tightened his grip on his hands behind him and he shook his head. “No. What you said was true. We fell in love and it did not matter to me what you were so long as you were you.” He sighed. “You may believe that, if nothing else.”

            “Then why?”

            Solas held her gaze for a long time, traced the familiar lines of her face, and mourned the bruises and fresh scars he had not been there to ease away. After another moment, he turned and motioned for her to walk with him, and after only a moment’s pause, she acquiesced.

            For the first time in two years, he took the time to explain what had happened, how he had scrambled to summon his power upon waking, and the terrible mistake that had caused such devastation upon the world these last few years. He delved even further back in history how he had struggled to free his people, to give them a life beyond slavery, a life beyond bondage. And again, how he made a terrible mistake that had devastated the world. Yet, as always, Evelyn listened raptly and without judgment. When at last he had finished speaking, he turned and found her gaze again. “I had to leave,” he said gently. “I had involved you enough already, and I—”

            “Let me help you, _Mir’lath_.” She looked up at him with determination and redemption in her eyes. “I want to help you.”

            He looked away, unable to hold her gaze. “I cannot do that to you, _vhenan_.”

            “And yet you do it to yourself?” Evelyn reached out, her gloved fingertips stopping just short of his breastplate. “All these years I’ve wondered and worried, and now you want me to bear the thought of you—of us—being alone even now?”

            “I walk the Din’anshiral,” he answered and wished that she would touch him. “There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.” His throat tightened, his words catching in his growing sorrow. “And your focus should be on the Inquisition. Your Inquisition.”

            Evelyn reached out, daring to touch his cheek for a moment before she pulled back, her shoulders lifted. “It is not my Inquisition any longer.” She slowly met his gaze. “I have given Leliana the orders to disband; the Inquisition has done what it needed to do. It is over.”

            He had not expected this. He had wondered, yes, but he had not thought she would take this course. For a moment, his heart dared to hope.

            As he opened his mouth to speak, he could feel the rising coil of magic within her, and he was there this time to catch her as she crumpled to the ground, crying out in pain and hugging her arm to her chest. Different words rose to his tongue. “The mark will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the chance to save you, at least for now. Your arm . . . you will lose it in the future; it is too damaged.”

            “Solas.” Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him. “Take the anchor. I want you to have it now.” She gritted her teeth, her tears spilling over her cheeks as the pain worsened. “All I ask is that you take me with you.”

            “Evelyn . . . .” He fought with himself, harried by the sounds of her pain and his own still-weak heart. She believed in him, even though he did not believe in himself—how could he deny them both? His grip tightened on her as she writhed in pain, and he bent, kissing her sweat-slicked hair. “My love.”

            Summoning his power once more, he closed his eyes and drew the anchor to him, ignoring her pain-filled whimpers as best he could. The magic roared as it was drawn free of her and added to the power he housed within himself, and as Evelyn gradually went limp in his arms, he allowed himself to hold her closer, to take refuge in her warmth, even if for just a moment more.

            She wanted to join him—of course—Evelyn had always been the one to confuse him and do what he least expected. But could he honestly make the decision to bring her with him? Did she even truly understand what she was asking? He debated for a long moment, listening as Evelyn caught her breath. As her hands slid over the pelt he wore, he slowly eased back and met her eyes, his mind made up.

            “ _Vhenan_ ,” he said softly and took her face in his hands.

            “Flickering, throbbing, pulsing so faintly. Hope is blinking, waiting for him. His eyes say yes, but he has so often said no.”

            Both Evelyn and Solas looked up as three figures made their way toward them; Cole, still waith-like, darted closest, his hands fluttering near his chest as though he hoped to coax a wounded bird to safety. His grey eyes flickered toward Solas and stayed there and a moment later, he sighed and smiled.

            “Good,” he said softly, and waited.

            Thom stepped forward, his gaze somber, but his expression shaded with hope. “I wish you well, my lady,” he said with a somber voice, but as he bowed and rose to find her gaze again, she could see the warmth and admiration in his dark eyes. “Do keep her safe, Solas,” he added a moment later, giving the elf a look that was filled with questions, but tempered with acceptance.

            “If you don’t, you’ll be hearing from us,” the Iron Bull concluded, his arms folded over his brawny chest, ignoring the wounds from the battles they had faced the last few days. He leveled his gaze on Solas for a long moment, scrutinizing him long enough that even the Dread Wolf felt a tad uncomfortable, but with a slow nod, the Iron Bull turned his gaze to Evelyn, a slow smile crossing his lips. “Keep an eye on him, Kadan. This one is used to keeping things tight to his chest, but he struggles with that around you.”

            Solas bristled at the suggestion until Evelyn pressed her hand, anchor still humming with residual power, against his chest, palm to his heart. “Thank you, Bull.” Her gaze was full of warmth and fondness as she lifted her gaze to her lover. “I will continue to do my best.”

            “The road will be long, winding, treacherous.” Cole laced his fingers together before tugging at the brim of his hat. “We will not see you—I will not see you, perhaps again.”

            “Perhaps not, Cole,” Evelyn said calmly. “But the way I feel about you, all of you, will not change, even if we are far apart.” She took a deep breath and moved to stand, her hands braced against Solas’ shoulders as she struggled to rise. He held her, steadying her with an arm around her waist, steadily sharing his mana to strengthen her. Murmuring her thanks and giving him a smile, Evelyn rested against him a moment more before stepping toward her companions.

            Cole met her halfway, his thin arms sliding around her waist and holding her close as he murmured many things into the curls near her ears. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, answering one of his quiet questions and holding him all the tighter for it before slowly pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and pulling away, meeting his pale gaze once more before he stepped back.

            Thom did not embrace her, but reached for her hand—the palm torn by the anchor—and bowed low over it. He pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles before he rose, gratitude swimming in his dark eyes before he gave her a nod and a smile and made way for the Iron Bull as the lumbering Qunari drew near and enveloped her within the great strength of his arms.

            Bull’s hug was strong and tight, but gentle, and Evelyn voiced no complaint, even as she was drawn up off her tiptoes and rocked for a long moment. He bent closer and murmured something in her ear, something that had Evelyn laughing even as a blush rose to her cheeks. Setting her back on her feet, he placed a great, bracing hand to her back as she turned to face Solas once more, and though his throat grew tight at the sight, he laced his fingers together behind his back and waited for Evelyn to return to his side.

            They had stayed long enough; they had to go.

            “Thank you,” she said quietly as she stood beside him once more, reaching for his tightly locked fingers, gently weaving her own slender fingers through his own and holding his hand as tight as she could. “I’m ready.”

            Solas inclined his head and turned his gaze to the men who stood a stone’s throw away, saying good-bye to their Inquisitor, to their friend. And he was their friend, as well—three years amongst them had opened his eyes to the good in this world, few and far between as it was. They had cared for Evelyn in his absence, been there for her when he had not, and for that, he owed them his gratitude. Still holding her hand, he bent at the waist, a shallow bow, but holding all the respect that he had for these three, and for the others in the Inquisition who had done so much in the last few years.

            He and Evelyn turned at the same time and walked toward the eluvian, the mirror flashing to life in a brilliant shimmer of blue, and as they drew closer, Evelyn squeezed his hand again, resting her temple against his shoulder for a moment before they stepped through the eluvian and on into the still unknown future.


End file.
